Practicing Thanksgiving

It's good to have this week of Thanksgiving when we're deliberate about stirring up our gratitude. For most of us, it seems like we spend much of the other 51 weeks of the year (not around Thanksgiving) consumed by the few things that aren't right rather than paying attention to the abundance of things for which we can't possibly give sufficient thanks.

An example of this, which you may have heard before, is in the picture above. In his book titled Prayer, George Buttrick wrote,

A lecturer to a group of businessmen displayed a sheet of white paper in which was one blot. He asked what they saw. All answered, "A blot." The test was unfair; it invited the wrong answer. Nevertheless, there is an ingratitude in human nature by which we notice the black disfigurement and forget the widespread mercy. We need to deliberately call to mind the joys of our journey. Perhaps we should try to write down the blessings of one day. We might begin: we could never end: there are not pens or paper enough in all the world. The attempt would remind us of our "vast treasure of content." (as quoted by James Bryan Smith in The Good and Beautiful God, pp. 67-68)

So this week, how do I pay attention to the "widespread mercy" which is always so much greater, so much more abundant, so much more generously and extravagantly given than I am normally aware? Let's say that my awareness of God's goodness to me is normally like a sensation of being wet. On most of my days, it's not like I'm completely ignorant of it, but it's like I have a feeling of walking in a lightly sprinkling rain. I'm aware that it's there, but it's not really stopping me from going about any of my business.

But, when I stop to pay attention, I realize that although I thought that I was only walking in a lightly sprinkling rain, I'm really swimming in the middle of the ocean, flooded by God's good, undeserved gifts to me on every side. When I open my eyes to see it, I feel like I have to open my mouth (or in this case, I guess it's my fingers, since I'm typing) and do the best inadequate job that I can of saying "Thank You" to God.

Buttrick is right. Writing down the blessings of one day is a project that we can start, but can't finish.

Chiropractors and Spiritual Formation

Over the past few months, I've become a believer in chiropractic care. I had always been a bit skeptical in the past, but after a second episode of back pain that made me nearly unable to move, I was desperate enough to give it a try. Pain has a way of motivating us to try things we wouldn't have done without it. In addition to recovering without having to take a single drug and seeing my chiropractor often enough to enjoy getting to know him, I've also seen some parallels between being his patient and my life with God.

First, the Pain Factor: I never would have gone for help without it. Even if the pain hadn't been as bad as it was, I would have gone on putting up with it rather than trying to figure out how to get better.

I've studied the Christian life quite a bit, but even with head knowledge, I find that I don't open myself up to God's grace in the ways I've studied until some level of desperation drives me to do so. Ruth Haley Barton writes about this quite a bit. In her excellent book, [amazon_link id="0830835458" target="_blank" ]Invitation to Solitude and Silence,[/amazon_link] she tells how desperation drove her into experimenting with these practices. She says, "As strange as it may sound, desperation is a really good thing in the spiritual life. Desperation causes us to be open to radical solutions, willing to take all manner of risk in order to find what we are looking for. Desperate ones seek with an all-conuming intensity, for they know that their life depends on it." (p. 30)

The Fear of Death Factor: Having never done anything like it before, it was a bit intimidating on the first couple of visits to let another person manipulate my spine. I've seen way too many episodes of 24 to be able to avoid thinking that this guy could kill me at any moment he wanted to.

Once desperation drives us to open ourselves to God, some of the best guidance we may receive can feel pretty intimidating. We're being asked to do what? To give up what? Sometimes this is intense and other times not, but there's a real sense in which parts of who we used to be are being put to death as we learn to put ourselves in God's hands, and it feels fearful to give that much control over to anyone else. These are the points at which things we are often quick to claim to believe about God are tested. Is God really loving? Is God really all-good? Is there really nothing bad about God? Is God really trustworthy? Can I say as Jesus did, even while hanging on the cross, the words from Psalm 31: "Into your hands I commit my spirit?"

In these moments, we have to remember the desperation that drove us to seek help in the first place, realizing that we cannot continue to get well if we don't entrust our lives into the other's hands.

The Cooperation Factor: From the initial visits to my chiropractor, he's given me exercises to do at home between visits. Ideally, these practices at home would work together with the adjustments he gives me during my visits and enable me not only to continue avoiding my previous pain level, but also to actually recover and live better. My track record of doing the exercises stinks. The reason is pretty simple: Most of the time, I feel good enough without doing them. The work that he does for me when I have an appointment is enough to keep the severe pain away. When I'm like this, I'm leaving the health of my back totally up to him.

I may hit a nerve with this one; at least it's the parallel that has struck the deepest chord with me. How much life are we missing out on when we're content to only show up for our weekly appointment in our lives with God, rather than also actually cooperating with God by doing the practices at home which would allow his work of grace in us to actually become a permanent part of our lives? More specifically, showing up at church is good, and may be enough to keep us from the intense kind of pain that we experienced in life when we were completely ignorant of God. But there are other practices handed down to us that can us, and indeed they're actually essential to our recovery. When we fail to do them (things like prayer, reflecting on the Scriptures, spending time in solitude and silence, fasting, service in secrecy, or many others), we're content to leave the health of our soul completely up to other people.

According to the data from the REVEAL Spiritual Life Survey, this is where the largest group of us in churches find ourselves. We desperately need to learn to do the practices and take our infinitesimal share of the responsibility for the quality of our lives with God. I'm sure that Jesus did not intend to say, "I have come so that they may have life- life that's good enough." No, he clearly wanted to convey an abundance of life that, through him, is available to us. But it requires our cooperation.

I write this sitting at my computer, which according to my chiropractor, may be the main culprit for my back pain. And I write it not having done my stretches or exercises for weeks. So I'd better quit writing before my back starts hurting. It's yet to be seen whether I take some responsibility for how it feels or just wait, again, until my next appointment...

In Defense of Followership

I'm still a newbie on Twitter. I've been on it a couple of years, but I've still yet to give it enough attention to let it do all that it's capable of in connecting with people, spreading ideas, etc. If it's like my history with other things, I'll finally really get the hang of it in a decade or so. Even though I like technology, I don't do much of anything very fast, including adopting new stuff.

But one thing about Twitter puzzles me: a lot of people follow a lot of people. For example, I currently have 43 people following me, and only 13 of those 43 follow fewer than 100 people. But then it gets more wacky: 10 of the 43 follow more than 1,000 people, and 3 of the 43 follow more than 10,000 people! The stats above are the highest numbers among my "followers": this person is my loyal follower, just as they are of 53,654 other people.

Now, I don't think there's anything wrong with this. People like this are accomplishing a lot more through social media than I've figured out how to do. But I just don't get it... why click "follow" by thousands of people's names?

Maybe I just like the word "follow" too much and get defensive on its behalf. There's no way that we can follow 10,000 people in any sense where the word keeps any real meaning. And it's not fair to Twitter nor to its users to over-spiritualize things, but just an observation:

Paying very close attention to whom it is that we really follow is invaluable in the course of our lives. Sure, I'd like it if there were 50,000 people following my blog (I think), but if there's ever a choice between having a huge number of people follow me or keeping a very small, but very wisely chosen group of people whom I'm following, I think the whole world will be better off if I choose to focus on being a great follower of a few people who have lived really well.

Leadership is over-rated. Followership really matters.

Why Jesus Wouldn't Have Been Grumpy in Your Church

I'm convinced that Jesus never sat in worship at a synagogue complaining to others that he "didn't get anything out of it." That's pretty remarkable if you think about it, because I'm quite sure that he never really "got fed" from the rabbi's comments, and I'm also sure that he is one who actually knew better than everyone in charge of the synagogue how to do the things they were trying to do.

I'm writing with a large amount of ignorance about ancient Jewish worship practices, but I'm pretty confident about a few things:

  • The synagogue in Nazareth (or the majority of the other places he spent time) probably didn't have the best band around.
  • If Jesus had invited a Gentile friend, no one in the synagogue would have gone out of their way to make him (or especially her!) feel welcome.
  • There weren't two rooms in the synagogue with different styles of worship opportunities, one where older, more traditional Andrew would have gone, and another that the younger, Rock-n-Roll Peter liked better.
  • And, perhaps most shockingly of all, there wasn't even a coffee bar.

Yet, as the Scriptures tell us, "it was his custom" to be in the synagogue. As a young man, it was the primary place where he learned the Hebrew Scriptures which he himself embodied. He continued to be there, and be shaped by what happened there, as an adult before he went to cousin John to be baptized and begin publicly proclaiming the availability of God's kingdom. And, once he had a group of disciples and began to be one called "Rabbi," he was still there, despite some pretty serious disagreements and tension with other people in the room.

Had he lived many more years, I'm quite sure that Jesus would not have become a grumpy old synagogue-man. So what's the difference? Why do so many of us go from church to church, as mentioned in Renovation of the Church, like Goldilocks, looking for leaders who preach the way we think they should preach, sing the way we think they should sing, and for a church that's not too big, not too small, but just right? And we usually do so convinced that we're following God's leading.

I'm writing as once again as one who sits in the pews, rather than who is up front leading in church, so I won't be concerned with saying this gently, as they would: if you're not being fed in your church, stop placing blame for your lack of growth on other people and start taking responsibility to cooperate with the work of God's grace that is abundantly available to you right now. You probably have a good idea of how you can shape your day today in a way that will give God more room to work in you. Do it. It's not anyone else's job, and God will be there to help your efforts.

Yes, we certainly read of Jesus having some stern things to say to the religious leaders of his day, but on a normal morning in worship, he wouldn't have been grumpy in your church or mine. He would have prayed, listened, noticed what was happening in the lives of those worshipping with him, and continued living knowing that he would be fed by doing his Father's will, rather than being dependent on the people up front to always do the feeding.

Am I Flourishing or Withering?

The state of my spiritual life, like the state of yours, is very simple: we’re either flourishing or we’re withering.

I can’t really explain why some of the pecan trees in our orchard are flourishing, with big, beautiful nuts on them, while others that were alive last year are now as dead as can be. Even if I can’t explain it, it’s a great visual reminder that my soul is constantly either being given life or having the life sucked out of it.

Over the years, I’ve learned to pay attention to a few indicators of my flourishing vs. my withering. You may have others you could add to your own list, but I would guess these are relevant to you too.

When I’m flourishing:

  • I’m more patient and less irritable.
  • Not getting my way on something bothers me less than it does at other times.
  • I’m much more able to enjoy time with my wife, my kids, and our family and friends, because I’m much more “there” with them rather than being distracted.
  • I sleep better, rather than having my mind racing at night trying to problem-solve even while I’m dreaming.
  • I don’t feel in a hurry.
  • I’m able to get the important things done and ignore stuff that doesn’t matter.

When I’m withering, the opposites of each of these things are true.

One of the puzzling things about these pecan trees is that they’re right next to each other. They received the same sunlight. They’ve both been irrigated. The exact same care has been given to both of them. Yet one is very alive and producing pecans that will be very tasty, while the other will become firewood.

A look at my spiritual life would be puzzling in the same way. God’s grace has always been available to me in super-abundance, with everything at hand that’s needed to live a life fully connected to God and others. At times my life has brought about some good things and I have loved God and people well. At other times, I haven’t had much life in me, but have only been dry and useless.

The good news is, that unlike a pecan tree, I have the response-ability to reconnect when I notice some of the warning signs of withering. I can put the conditions for growth back into place, and allow God’s good grace to have its effect on me.

What about you? Are you flourishing, or withering?

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. - John 15:4-6

How the Transforming Community Saved My Life

I began my two-year experience with Ruth Haley Barton's Transforming Community experience after having been in full-time ministry for a decade, and during those years I had largely bought into the lie that the kind of life with God that I deeply desired was a luxury which the demands of ministry said I could not afford. Although I would not have said it in these words, my lifestyle revealed that I believed practices such as taking a day to be alone with God were not really among the best uses of my time in seeking to advance the work of God’s kingdom among us.

The first Transforming Community retreat I attended focused on solitude and silence. After some initial teaching and times of prayer, we were given an extended period of time to be quiet and alone with God. When I arrived back in my room, I literally felt ecstatic to the point of jumping up and down. This was not because of any special experience or vision from God, but simply because though I had desired a life of intimacy with God for years, I had denied myself permission to pursue it in some of these most elemental practices handed down to us through the centuries. I was caught off-guard by my own elation, but it made sense once I realized that it had been eight years since I had last been on a retreat that gave me extended time for silence and being alone with God. I already had a master’s degree in spiritual formation and my denomination’s certification as a professional in the field, and yet I had starved myself of being alone with God for eight full years, and largely because of my feeling that the demands of ministry were too important for me to indulge myself in practices such as those.

As I signed my name on the Transforming Community’s group commitments, including that I would spend time in solitude regularly rather than starving myself for another eight years, I felt that I had finally been given permission, by a group of others who knew the same demands of ministry that I did, to live my life in a way that was consistent with my desire for God rather than continuing to deny it for the sake of ministry. That felt monumentally good.

When I received that permission to rearrange my life around my desire for God, I had no idea that the events of life would unfold in such a way that I would desperately need the lifeline that the Transforming Community would provide me through its practices and relationships over the next two years. Ministry circumstances during that time were the most difficult that I had faced in my decade of ministry. Simultaneously facing those pressures of my work and going through a period of intense personal grief and family stress upon my father’s diagnosis of terminal cancer and his death six months later was too much for me to handle. Depression came and I felt as if life was being squeezed out of me.

If at the same time, I had not also been in the Transforming Community... Well, there is no way of knowing for sure how things would have been different, but I am convinced that I would have been dragged some place emotionally and spiritually where I never want to go.

I cannot overstate the value of the Transforming Community consistently providing me with solid , challenging teaching which helped me to develop skills in discernment and led me to find a path of ministry much more authentic and aligned with God’s work in me than the direction I had been headed.

I cannot express the value of the relationships with people who mentored me, prodded me, encouraged me, and listened to me in the midst of the pain I was experiencing.

Perhaps most significant of all, I will never fully know the extent to which I was sustained and held up through the way that the community and its leadership prayed for me personally. It felt at times as if I could not stand, but this community stood for me through their prayers.

I am now more than six months removed from the completion of my two years in the Transforming Community. My life is now arranged dramatically different from the way that it was when I attended that first retreat on solitude and silence. My family, all of those to whom I minister, and I are all much better off because of the changes we have made.

If I had not been in the Transforming Community during these two years of my life, perhaps God may have sent another lifeline my way. I am profoundly grateful that I will never have to know if that is true.

Want to know more?:

Need a Retreat?

Part of my new work roles that I'm enjoying so much includes leading 3-4 retreats per year through our church, and I'm very excited about the first one coming up in October. Three Ways to Pray will be an experiential introduction to historic practices of prayer.

The details and registration are available by clicking here. I would love to have you join us, whether your church home is the same as ours or somewhere else. If you have any questions, feel free to email me.